I breathe a
beating
bowling ball
that bludgeons
behind
my breasts.
I want to
tear it
from my
chest
to show
you
my inner
winter
sob fest
and what a
positive
pest
this pain can
persist.
I want my
bowling ball
burden
to blacken
eyes;
I want to share
the darkness
I hide
and hire
someone
to color
my insides
white
sunlight.
I'm tired
of this fight
with heavy things
and all the weight
blackness brings.
I'd roll this
sphere
from my chest
if I were
sure
it's ghost
wouldn't persist
